


Heat

by Orithain, Rina9294



Category: Prison Break
Genre: 3.4 Good Fences, Episode Related, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-23
Updated: 2016-09-23
Packaged: 2018-08-16 09:20:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,618
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8096587
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Orithain/pseuds/Orithain, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rina9294/pseuds/Rina9294
Summary: Two angry men alone in a prison cell.





	

**Author's Note:**

> We couldn’t resist tweaking the confrontation scene in episode 3.4 Good Fences to make it go the way we wanted to see.  
> Originally posted October 2007.

Michael Scofield wasn’t quite sure when things had gotten so out of control, even more so than normal for being trapped inside the hellhole that was the Panamanian prison Sona, but here he was, pressed up against the wall of his own cell with Alex Mahone trapping him there and holding the hilt of a knife that he’d slammed into the wall next to Michael’s head. Sweat beaded on both men, the heat as intense as if the flames painted on the cell walls were real, and they locked gazes, neither willing to yield.

Each was the only worthy adversary either had ever faced, the only one to be able to outthink the other, and both men knew it, even if neither was willing to admit it.

Michael had made one small mistake, an oversight, and Mahone, even strung out, had picked up on it, and now here they were.

"Do you understand me, Michael?" Mahone rasped, leaning in, his dilated eyes never losing their focus on Michael’s face.

Michael tilted his head down slightly, trying to defuse Mahone’s anger, but he continued watching the other man through his eyelashes, gauging his mood.

"Not answering me isn’t doing much for my confidence in you." Mahone pushed closer, the makeshift knife grating against the wall beside Michael’s head.

"You’re misunderstanding," Michael said carefully, his eyes darting to the knife before returning to Mahone’s face.

"And what am I misunderstanding?" Mahone asked, his breath ghosting over Michael’s face, bringing a momentarily coolness to his sweat-soaked skin.

"I didn’t give you a make-work project," Michael said earnestly, trying to convince Alex.

"I hope for your sake you didn’t."

Michael’s gaze shot up to meet Mahone’s. "That sounded like a threat, Alex."

"Only if you’re using me. I need you to get out of here, and I think you need me as well." Mahone’s voice was a hoarse whisper as he pressed against Michael, the hand holding the knife pressed against his shoulder.

"Of course," Michael said soothingly, glancing at the knife again as he felt the heat of Mahone’s body from head to toe. At that admission, Mahone closed his eyes and let loose a deep breath, the action pressing him closer against Michael, who sucked in a startled breath.

"What are you doing, Alex?"

"Securing my options, Michael, what does it look like I’m doing?" The blue of Mahone’s eyes was lost in the black of his pupils when he opened them again.

"This isn’t necessary, Alex." Michael tried to put more space between them, but pressed up against the wall as he was, there was nowhere to go.

"Oh, I assure you that it is, because like it or not, we’re in this together; you’ll be rid of me once you’ve testified as to my innocence."

Michael’s eyes shot up to Mahone’s, and he licked his lips, a tiny sign of uncertainty that Mahone took note of, a small smile twisting his mouth though none of the intensity left his expression. "I’m going to be there whenever you turn around, Michael."

Michael stared at him, staying completely motionless. "You should get a hobby, Alex."

"I have one: keeping you alive to get me out of here."

Michael’s eyes narrowed. "If you’ll recall, I managed to keep myself and my brother alive and get us both out of Fox River."

"Oh, I remember that very well." A drop of sweat rolled down Michael’s face, and Mahone’s dilated eyes flicked to the side as they tracked it. "Just remember, I’m the one who does the things you can’t or won’t—remember your friend with the chicken foot?"

Michael frowned. "And I was grateful for your help, but telling me you’re a killer doesn’t exactly build confidence, Alex." He shifted a little, hoping it would make Mahone move.

"Oh? Then why don’t you ask me what I did to get you that pen that was so crucial to your plans?" Mahone’s voice dropped to a rough whisper, and he held his ground so that the small movements Michael made rubbed their bodies together.

Michael stilled, his eyes widening slightly and his nostrils flaring as he inhaled. "What did you do?" he asked, his voice lower than normal.

"I used the currency I had on hand."

"You..." Michael’s eyes flinched, and Mahone leaned back just enough to study him intently.

"Did what was necessary to get the pen that was _crucial_ to your plan."

Michael couldn’t meet Mahone’s gaze, and he shifted uncomfortably. "I didn’t ask you to do that."

"No, you never ask, do you," Mahone murmured. "You just work people to get the results you want."

Michael’s eyes shot up to meet Mahone’s. "And you don’t?" he snapped.

"Never said I didn’t."

Michael frowned. "What do you want, Alex?"

Mahone’s laughter was harsh and brittle. "A little consideration, that’s all, and for you not to fuck me over, got it?"

"I can assure you I have absolutely no intention of fucking you—with you." Michael hastily corrected himself.

Alex pulled back enough to look into Michael’s eyes, his lips curled in a sardonic smile as he shifted his weight enough to press a thigh against Michael’s groin. "Really?"

Michael gasped sharply, his eyes darting to Mahone’s and then away.

"That wasn’t an answer." The growl was back in Mahone’s voice, and he stayed in position, pressed against Michael.

"You don’t want to do this, Alex," Michael said, but the words lost much of their impact when his voice caught as Mahone moved against him.

"And what am I doing?"

"I have no fucking idea," Michael bit out, turning his head slightly to the side.

"That’s a change," Mahone chuckled, the sound of his laughter as jagged as their nerves.

Michael barked a laugh in turn that held little of amusement. "There have been a hell of a lot of changes lately."

"Which is why it’s better if we work together."

"I thought we were," Michael bit out, trying to ignore the way he was hardening against Alex.

"No, you were fucking me over; if we want to get out of here alive, we need to cooperate." The muscles of Alex’s leg flexed against Michael’s groin.

"This is not cooperating," Michael retorted, trying not to groan.

"Really? Then what would you call it?"

"Fucked up," Michael rasped before his head moved forward and their mouths slammed together in a violent, angry kiss, the knife dropping from Alex’s hand as he grabbed hold of Michael’s shirt to pull him closer, their bodies aligning to rub together, drawing a growl from his throat. Michael’s hand rose to push Alex away now that he’d released the blade, but instead he found himself fisting Alex’s shirt and pulling him closer, Alex’s hands rising to slide around the curve of Michael’s head so he could eat at his mouth as they ground together.

Michael groaned, his free hand sliding around to the back of Alex’s neck, and he thrust against Alex, feeling both of their cocks jump.

"Good," Alex rasped against Michael’s mouth as they undulated together, the fabric of their clothes rasping together, creating a delicious friction between them.

Michael nodded jerkily, the sweat running down their faces as the already hot temperature rose even more, plastering their clothes against them. Alex pulled back enough to get a hand between them and fumbled with the button and zipper holding Michael’s jeans closed, searching for the bare flesh beneath.

Michael gasped again, stiffening and ready to pull away until the pleasure swamped his qualms, and he pushed into Alex’s hand instead as it closed around his cock, the feel of smooth flesh drawing a grunt from Alex’s throat as well. After a moment Michael tentatively reached for Alex, kneading him through his pants.

Mahone shuddered at the contact and rested his head against Michael’s shoulder, his hips rocking against the pressure as he continued to stroke Michael’s cock. Michael groaned again, rocking into Alex’s grip while fumbling to unfasten his pants, and then he let out a low growl of satisfaction when he made contact with bare flesh, the touch drawing a gasp of pleasure before Alex bit down on his shoulder, his grip tightening even as he thrust into Michael’s hand.

The bite made Michael cry out, the sound quickly smothered for fear of drawing attention from other prisoners, and he thrust hard into Alex’s hand, his body tightening.

"Yes..." Alex hissed, the word smothered against Michael’s throat, and he twisted his wrist, making Michael cry out as he came, warm liquid gouting over Alex’s hand and arm, sliding downward to slick his grip as he grunted and thrust into Michael’s fist. After a moment, Michael tightened his fingers around Alex and stroked him rapidly, watching Mahone’s face even as the last tremors of his own climax rippled through him.

The faded blue eyes went half-lidded and lost concentration as Mahone thrust into Michael’s grip, and he let out a low groan as he came as well, Michael continuing to stroke him until the last spasm subsided.

As they caught their breath, the realization of what they’d done seemed to strike them both, and Michael looked anywhere except at Mahone, who drew back, tucking himself into his pants negligently.

"We work together," he rasped. "Got it?"

Michael nodded silently, adjusting his clothes to cover himself again.

"Good." Mahone bent and picked something up, tossing it to Michael. "You dropped this."

Michael stared at the pen for a moment before reaching out and taking it. "Thanks."

Alex nodded, watching Michael levelly before stepping back toward the cell door, and Michael watched him go without saying another word, the scent of sex permeating the air of his cell.


End file.
